Killing Ames
by HautkopfofUlm
Summary: Title says it all. I killed Ames in this story. Let's find out how the crew deal with it and how she really died. The focus is still on Guerrero in this. Enjoy!
1. What they saw

**Disclaimer: Don't own nothing, don't intend nothing.**

**Author's note on author's notes: There will be a lot of Author-Noting going on, especially in the second chapter.**

**Author's note: See what I'm talking about?;) So, I had this story planned as a one-shot since the season premiere, but never wrote it until tree979 posted an Ames-prompt in the Human Target FORUM that overlapped a lot with what I had in mind. I "just" added another chapter and voilà: prompt response combined with my original story. Enjoy!**

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"Dude, what." Guerrero looked up at Winston who had been staring at him for 10 minutes straight. He would have ended this game much sooner, but after all the time he had kind of started to respect Winston. Naah, that was bullshit, he just didn't feel like talking to the big guy. He knew what it would come to- again. And he wasn't in the mood to talk it over- again. But how was one supposed to get any work done with that omnipresent feeling of someone watching you? _Better get it over with_.

"Is this still about her? Honestly, dude, I think you and Ilsa pestered me enough."

"About what went down maybe. Not about you."

"Me?"

Winston could almost see the wall Guerrero was pulling up. He hadn't meant to be staring, he just got lost in thoughts when he watched the guy type away at his computer like usual. Like nothing had happened. How could Guerrero just carry on like that? Yes, they hadn't known Ames for long, but they had just started getting used to her and after the whole bank heist thing maybe they had even allowed themselves to care about her. All except Guerrero of course. After her death he had been cranky for a day or two, then was back to his usual self. No deep feelings. Did this man even have feelings?

"Yeah. _You_. You know, I don't expect you to burst into tears like Ilsa or go into a three day fasting trance like Chance, but-"

"But what? What do you expect of me, Winston? Are you looking for feelings of guilt? Self-reproach? 'Cause those are Chance's departments."

He had done it again. He had pulled Winston's aces out his sleeve right under his own nose. But he wasn't going to give up like that.

"You tell _me_ what I should be looking for. Because I couldn't find anything, not from the beginning and that makes me suspicious. Who are you trying to convince, Guerrero? Chance and me- or yourself?"

"Denial. That's what you should be looking for. It's the most common reaction within a certain period of time after an unsuspected death occurred."

"Yeah I don't see that in you either."

"Nope. Nothing to deny, Winston. I wasn't there. I told her to stay put- she didn't stay put. Smart ass had to go after the guy, thought she could handle him. She never figured out the difference between wanting to impress me and throwing herself right in front of certain death. Not my fault, dude. Simple as that."

"Simple my ass. Just because Ames was responsible for her actions and how… how… what happened to her, doesn't explain your total lack of grieving for her. You can't actually-"

"Are you upbraiding me, Winston? 'Cause I haven't seen _you_ shed a single tear."

"What I'm saying, Guerrero, is that everybody's got their own way to grieve and that's okay-"

"Good for you."

"-but you haven't been affected by Ames'… passing at all and I just _won't _believe you're really the psychopath I always suspected."

Winston hoped his plain-talking would provoke some kind of reaction out of Guerrero and sure enough it did, just not the kind he was hoping for. Guerrero got up, walked over to Winston and bent to meet his eyes. Winston found Guerrero's eyes as dull as ever, but his voice made his threat compellingly clear:

"I am saying this to you only to end this farce here and now: Ames chose to hang around _me_, not the other way around. I tolerated her. Didn't even really like her. No connection means no grieving, got that? So, before you go digging for something in me next time, you might want to remember that it's _your problem_ rather than mine if you don't find it. Don't take it out on me dude or I'll be responsible for _your_ death, too."

Without another word Guerrero turned around, snapped his notebook shut and squeezed past Chance, as he tried to enter. Chance watched as his friend crossed the loft and left. Then, still leaning in the doorway, he faced Winston.

"Was that about Ames again? Winston, I told you to let it go."

"I hear you now, Chance. Guerrero just made it clear by a threat to my life that Ames really didn't mean a thing to him." Winston shook his head. "At last he found a way to make me believe him. And I found a justification to hate him."

"You really believe that?"

"It took me the longest time, but yeah, yeah I do."

"Is that why he spent all of his free time over the last week on his computer, digging up every last bit of Ames' background he could find? He found every living relative of hers, the place she grew up in as a child, high school records-"

"How do you know-"

"Turns out Ilsa has a talent for sneaking up on people. She told me, I confronted Guerrero about it, he told me all about Ames. How often she went to the hospital and why, that she was being mistreated by her step-dad, her juvie records, her middle name. That's why I told you to let it go."

Winston wanted to say something, but after a while he just shut his mouth.

"It's just his way of… you know…"

"Mourning?" Winston sceptically helped.

"Coping. Get to know Ames in retrospective. He's looking for answers."

"For what."

"Don't know... Back in your cop days, did you never get sucked up into a case gone bad in such a way that you started to rake every bit of information you could get your hands on simply because you couldn't help it?

And there's something else: I heard the last thing he said to you. 'I'll be responsible for your death, too.' '_Too_', Winston. He may not have been with Ames when she died or witnessed who did it, so of course he's not feeling guilty. But there's a difference between guilt and responsibility. And he still feels responsible."

After the lectures first from Guerrero and now from Chance, Winston felt foolish and humbled. He knew about Chance's and Guerrero's shared past, but he had a feeling that even with all of Chance's experience he would never learn to not misjudge the man.

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**Do I really still have to ask you to review? That's getting embarassing for you and me both, but I won't stop as long as you won't start reviewing: Reviews mean everything to me. I'm writing these fics partly for myself, but also because I know readers here enjoy them. So show it already!**


	2. What he saw

*_One week earlier*_

"You may've noticed by now that I'm not the most patient man, so tell me: why do I still have to tell you to stay in the car?"

"I got it now, _dad_." Ames rolled her eyes at Guerrero. "You go in and handle the bad guy, I stay here nice and good. Happy?"

"How old are you, fourteen?" With that Guerrero left his annoying appendage and the caddie behind and headed for the old warehouse. He couldn't believe Winston made him take her with him and he was going to get back to him for that. After all this was supposed to be a most informal, most unofficial meeting, but up to this point Winston had never learnt to respect Guerrero's way with informants. Guerrero shook his head disgruntledly.

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Ames shook her head impatiently. Guerrero had told her it wouldn't take long, so what had he been doing in there for the last twelve minutes? She fidgeted in the passenger seat, never turning her eyes away from the storehouse. She understood she was of no use to him in there, but she still wanted to be there, learn how those trade-offs worked, how Guerrero worked, maybe get to know his contacts, but so far all she had learnt was how to be patient and when to shut up. Oh and how to make a grown man cry with the help of a tea spoon. That had been pretty awesome actually.

Ames' musings were disturbed when she heard a faint noise from the direction of the storehouse. She opened the car window and sure enough the noise was that of gunshots. And an automatic weapon? What the-? Guerrero didn't have one of those with him. Oh well, Ames thought. Normally she hated to obey Guerrero's tyranny, but right now her staying in the car would probably actually get him into more trouble. She smiled viciously. No way was she bailing him out.

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Guerrero cursed inwardly. Why did there always have to be an unexpected third player? He had entrenched himself behind some long ago forgotten metal containers and was trying to estimate if he could make it to the door without ending up as his so called informant. Well, that had actually been his fault. The guy had made a run for it before the first shots were even fired, but Guerrero still being short of his answers had immobilized him with two slugs to his Achilles tendons. He was still alive which Guerrero took as a sign that whoever had ambushed them had some questions of his own. What a drag, he thought as both him and the unknown man in the upper level waited for the other to make the next move.

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'How old are you, fourteen?' The sentence reverberated in Ames' head. She was sick of not being taken seriously by the haggard guy she had chosen as her mentor. But she had to admit, it was partly her own fault, she could be sullen like a teenager at times, if only because he _made_ her. He knew which buttons to push, because she made it so easy for him. She still had a lot to learn. Ames decided that she would stay in the car out of respect for the man, not out of defiance. Maybe she would get some back if he made it out alive.

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When Guerrero heard the man with the automatic weapon start to run, so did he. It was only a question of who would find whom first. Maybe he would even have a chance to make a clear get-away. Screw the informant. He rounded the corner of the entrance gate, looking around.

His eyes set on Ames, the aim of his gun set on the gun held to her head.

Judging by her face at least she had put up a pretty good fight.

"You know, matey, I would've expected a bit more of her." Baptiste scoffed. "Considering she's your daughter."

"What?" was the simultaneous response of the two.

"Dude, I don't even know what brought you here, but until now I always thought of you as a pretty high-end assassin, you know, not as good as me or Chance, but normally you do your homework. And now you're telling me you don't even know what my daughter looks like?"

"You've got a point, mate, I feel like I should compliment you. You did a pretty decent job hiding her from us for all those years. It's a shame really, 'cause fortunately she doesn't take after you at all. All I ever found out was her age and this young lady is cutting it pretty close."

"You have a daughter? A _twenty-three_ year old daughter? How old are-"

"Nice try, sweetheart, but you look more like nine-teen to me." Baptiste cut Ames off. "That's how old she is now, right, mate?" Ames looked more indignant than afraid.

"What does it take for me to make you believe she's not my daughter?" Guerrero asked before Ames could make another unrefined remark.

"At this point? Impromptu DNA test. But of course…" Baptiste put on a victorious smile, "you can spare us this ridiculous Maury rip-off if you can tell me why she called you 'dad' in the car."

Guerrero gave Ames a meaningful glare. At the same time he tried to figure out if she was going to be of any use to him. The look on her face was one that the untrained eye would have taken for composure and that Guerrero knew to be a desperate attempt to put on a show. She tried to look tough in front of him, but she knew she was screwed.

"Look, I don't know your history with Guerrero, but I'm _not_ his daughter, you hear me, fucker? Why would I want to stay with this freak?" she screamed at Baptiste in a feeble attempt to come up with a plausible explanation.

"You know, darlin', we're trying to talk from adult to adult here. Oy, keep your little brat in check or I will!"

Ames turned pale. "Please, Guerrero. I only got out of the car 'cause I thought you need help. Tell him already!"

So she definitely wasn't going to be any help.

"Dude, I know you didn't come here on a personal agenda, why make it one now."

Baptiste actually looked hurt. "C'mon pal, you know me better than that. I have _never_ let things get personal, not my style."

"Why are you here?"

"If you need to know: Achilles in there is just a wee bit involved in something the old man is interested in, so I can't have you turn him inside out as you so masterly do. It's a coincidence really that you needed to come across him at this rather inconvenient time. Though I oughta thank you for not killing him, your old boss will appreciate your cooperation. Oh right, and thanks for bringing your daughter along, I appreciate this. Now if we could get back to your lovely girl here-"

"Kill me instead of her." Ames looked at Guerrero in shock. Would he really sacrifice himself for her?

"You think I'm going to fall for that? Take away my gun from her pretty little noggin, so you can shoot me? Excuse me, mate, but how dense do you think I am? Besides, that's not how this is working."

"What do you mean?"

Baptiste laughed, but it sounded hollow. If Guerrero hadn't known better he would have suspected Baptiste was stalling.

"You know, when Chance left, the old man thought it advisable to have the rest of the crew proof what they're worth, let him know we were still on his side."

"I know dude, I was there, get to the point."

"You never found out that those hits weren't just normal jobs, 'cause you used to act as the cleaner anyway, so for you getting rid of another loose end- it was all in a day's work. But for the rest of us they were special. The names on that list were our weak spots. I don't need to tell you that everyone's got one." He nodded towards Ames.

"I hit the jackpot." Baptiste shrugged helplessly. "Do you understand?"

"Not a word. That was three years ago, if the old man knew about her all the time, why didn't you kill her back then?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find her. But the old man made sure I couldn't just walk away either... ... I am sorry, mate, but if she doesn't die, someone very close to me will. After all these years her death is my ticket out of this mess."

"Except she's not my daughter, dude."

Baptiste nodded regretfully. "I know you're only doing what every father would do, but for both our sakes, don't make this harder than it has to be." He pulled the trigger.

Before Ames' body even hit the ground he pointed his gun at Guerrero who could do nothing but dive for cover. He fired back but couldn't get an angle on him.

"You have to believe me, mate: I am truly sorry it had to come to this. I sincerely apologize. You know how the old man can be. I know this won't make up for it, but I even tried to warn you when you called me, remember? I just want to assure you again that this had nothing to do with you personally."

Only when Guerrero had emptied his magazine, ne noticed that Baptiste was long gone. Guerrero got up. He didn't need to walk over to Ames' dead body. He could see from where he stood that her eyes were still open. He walked to her anyway. He felt surreal as he looked down. The complete silence and solitude that coated him now made him realize that she was truly gone.

_Fuck._ How was he going to explain this to the team? How was he supposed to explain this to himself?

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**Author's note on following author's note: Spoiler for The Return of Baptiste.**

**Author's note: The chapter made much more sense before The Return of Baptiste and when I watched it a couple hours ago I was like Aaaaaaw ffffffffuuuu- 'cause originally Baptiste gets rather ugly-personal here. Here's how: ~~~~~**

**"What do you want?"**

**"Your're done stalling, good. You know, I never understood why you left. Chance, he always had this martyr thing down perfectly, but you- _you_ I really thought were different. I admired you. You were one of us. To give it all up because of _him_? Or _her_? How pathetic. So I guess what I want is _this_." Baptiste pulled the trigger. ~~~~**

**But then in the ep I learnt that he's kind of a victim himself, that he's hurt and disappointed and still has his principles and sticks to them, which impressed me. So I rewrote this part of the chapter and made it all non-personal business. Not sure I pulled it off, but I for one welcome the new Baptiste.**

**Oh and I chose to ignore the fact that the old man apparantly "cut Baptiste loose"- in fact maybe the story can hint at why they split.**

**If you want Baptiste to get his watch back, REVIEW! If you don't- still REVIEW, 'cause either way it's Chance's call, not mine. THANKS!**


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